


Rosé at Twilight

by simplycec



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Mafia AU, They need a hug, and some love, and some reassurance, but also not really because it's never mentioned, chile anyways, kym's in the mafia but it never mentions, soft angst, this was pointless why did i write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26392315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplycec/pseuds/simplycec
Summary: Being drunk by the enigma of your embrace-Odysseus ElytisWilliam had always been so used to fighting his skull-fight pain with more pain.But then he encountered the in-betweens, the fraction where it was neither night nor day, and the fine line between comfort and chaos.
Relationships: William Hawkes/Kym Ladell
Comments: 9
Kudos: 48





	Rosé at Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing a kywi hospital au but literally side-tracked so much--

“It’s raining quite hard, isn’t it?”

William sat alone atop a barstool on a Friday night, a half-drank glass of iced-rum in hand as he watched the neverending downpour outside. The voice belonged to a girl of small stature, a black trench coat draped over her rain-battered shoulders as she peered at him with hazy eyes and a tired smile. Her blue hair stuck to her cold-flushed cheeks, though her demeanor was anything but shy. She wordlessly took a seat beside him, not caring to ask for his permission to do so (not like he would’ve declined anyway). 

She ordered a drink, though Will couldn’t make out what she had said. His mind was completely bleary, the alcohol robbing him of any sensible thought. It would hurt the morning after, that he knew, but the temporary ignorance is what he craved. 

It was fairly late into the night, only a few other lost souls within the bar. There was mellow piano music playing in the background, performed by an old man who had lost his wife a few years back. Despite the row of empty stools, the peculiar stranger had decided to situate herself beside him. William didn’t think much of it, assuming she just wanted some company. 

“Let me guess,” she started, flicking the rim of her glass. “You’re here to drink your sorrows away.”

A dry laugh escaped him and he nodded, rubbing his eyes with his hands. His drunken state told him there was no reason to lie.

“That’s okay,” the stranger continued lightly. “Rum is too strong for me, so I prefer rosé.”

At that, William eyed the glass in her hand, and indeed it was filled with a soft ombre pink. He’s only had the drink a few times before, though he could distinctly recall the taste of blended flower mixed in with a wisp of sugar. It wasn’t bad, nor was it great. It didn’t hold enough liquid courage to clear his mind.

“I take it you don’t have an umbrella?”

“Nope,” he murmured. 

“I don’t either.” She smiled, taking a sip of her rosé. She seemed...abstract. Unreadable. Enigmatic. Her eyes betrayed nothing, and the grin on her lips was not _cheerful_ , yet it was not somber either. It simply existed without a reason. 

He observed her then, with nothing else to do. She was, to put it simply, drenched in rainwater. The coat that was draped over her shoulders did so little to shelter the rest of her figure, though strangely enough, she didn’t seem to be cold. She was wearing a white blouse with the sleeves rolled up, paired with a dark vest that appeared to be clean-cut and new. It was only when she turned to look him in the eye did he notice the bandage taped on her cheek. 

“So, what’s your name?”

“Will.”

She nodded and took another sip of her floral pink liquor. 

“So, how’d you get that bandage?” Will asked, noting the cloth on her left cheek. 

She stroked the brim of her glass, calm and unwavering. The smile on her bruised lips never faded despite its lack of sincerity. “I got in a scuffle last night.”

Will turned his gaze towards the windows that looked out to the lonely streets, neon lights reflected against the dampened asphalt. A car would drive by occasionally, but the rain only seemed to continue its downpour. He hadn’t even thought of how he would get home. 

A phone went off with its monotone beeping, and the girl beside him picked it up. She whispered in a hushed voice, though Will didn’t pay much attention to her conversation. She spoke slow and steady, a tinge of seriousness that canceled out her dull cheer. The glass in his hand had already been emptied.

When the phone call ended, she stood up from her stool and pushed her glass of half-drank rosé towards him. “Finish this for me and call a cab to get home.”

The stranger turned and made her way towards the door, her black trenchcoat flowing behind her drearily. Will could only watch as her figure grew smaller and smaller amidst the pouring rain, though it seemed like she wasn’t bothered by the pelting. It simply kept pouring, and pouring, and pouring. 

It was only after he took his first sip of the floral sweet alcohol did he realize that he never got her name.

* * *

A rosé sat in front of her and a simple gin sat in front of him. It was 4 AM, and dawn was about to break. 

“I never got your name last time.” Will was tired, the long hours he worked contributing to the growing toll on his mind. When he had first seen the familiar stranger sitting at her previous spot on the barstool, he almost felt relieved. At least, he was a little less lonely. Still, that’s all that she was. A familiar stranger.

Her fingertip drew circles around the rim of her glass. “Kym.”

There was no reasonable explanation for them to be at the bar. He felt bad for the employees, though he supposed that it was what they had signed up for; after all, it _was_ a 24-hour place. 

Now that he had a name to put to her face, she seemed more like an acquaintance. The bandage that had been on her cheek the previous week was gone, and he could see the dull fade of a scar. The bags beneath her eyes were deep, her clothes were wrinkled and faded, yet on her lips was her ambiguous smile that always seemed to linger. 

“Do you get the same drink every time?”

She chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Don’t you ever get bored of it?”

“No,” she breathed out softly, flicking the brim of her glass. A resounding _ting_ rang throughout the bar. “It’s...comforting.”

Will didn’t pry further than that, seeing no use in mingling with someone else’s drink preferences. He, too, had his own comfort foods and drinks.

The sky outside was a navy that was in the process of bleeding into a baby blue with a lavender in-between that acted as a fairy-tail border. The streets were empty, and it was just the two of them within the bar (aside from the lone bartender). It almost seemed too surreal. It was not night, nor was it day. There was no rhyme or reason to its grace—just like Kym, it simply existed.

He emptied out his drink and ordered another one; this time a rosé. He noticed the growing smirk on Kym’s face from his peripheral but acted as if he hadn’t. 

The bartender placed the glass down in front of him, ice swirling in the blush-colored drink. Will brought it up to his lips to take a sip.

It was sweet and just a bit fruity. There was a hint of melon lingering beneath the flowery flavor, and as much as Will hesitated to admit, it was a rather refreshing contrast to the strong drinks he usually ordered. A calm amidst the raging war within his head.  
For the longest time, he had fought the pain swelling in his skull with more pain—anything strong enough to cancel out his thoughts. He enjoyed the sudden change of pace a lot more than he had first expected.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Kym perked. Violet sky illuminated her obscure figure. _She_ looked surreal.

He nodded, relishing in the sweet aftertaste. 

“We really shouldn’t be here this early,” he commented, poking fun at their absurd predicament. In no less than three hours, he’d be on his way to work once again, and she’d be off continuing to bring forth her puzzling nature upon others.

“Yet we are.” Kym sighed, resting her chin on her palm as she gazed at the empty sight outside the windows. “It looks like the kind of sky you could fly away to.”

He tried to catch her coffee-tinted eyes; unwavering, curious, _wistful_. Her smile was never one of earnest, yet it was never quite sinister either. She seemed like the kind of greek-tragedy that knew how to haunt but did it kindly. The kind one would see and hear in airports early in the morning when two lovers were trying to pass time. Romantic, and only ever barely amazing. 

Two birds—pearly white and sapphire—flocked past the windows just as dawn began to breakthrough. Will mindlessly swirled his drink, cherishing the temporary tranquility. Soon, people would begin flocking to the streets and he would be forced to return to his solemn workplace and sickly mother, faced with the daunting realities he wished so much to flee. For now, though, he was allowed to relish in the calm. 

“The city’s going to wake up soon,” she breathed. For the first time since he met her, he could read the words that swam in her eyes with ease. She was bidding the twilight a make-shift goodbye, almost like a promise.

“Yeah.”

They spent perhaps a minute together doing nothing but letting themselves drown in forgotten serenity. Kym finished the last bits of her drink before stepping off the barstool, adjusting her trenchcoat so that it wouldn’t fall off her dainty shoulders. She shot Will a smile. Her sarcastic gaze returned, and he could read her no more.

“Have a good day, Will.”

She walked away from him again, violet-blue sky colliding with her back when she opened the door of the bar and returned to the streets. From the distance, he could hear the voices of children laughing as they began to leave for school.

It was that morning that Will decided she didn’t need to be amazing. Just present.

* * *

She didn’t order a rosé the next time they saw each other, yet ironically enough, Will did. From beside him, she playfully kicked his calf to get his attention.

“Falling in love with rosés now?” she teased, swinging her legs back and forth softly against his. Her wrist was the one wrapped in bandages this time, and though she tried to feign arrogance, her messy appearance begged otherwise. 

He rolled his eyes. “They’re just nice.”

Kym laughed, her legs halting in their youthful movements. She glanced outside at the hazy sky. They both need to stop their frivolous habit of drinking at twilight. 

_They’re more than just nice_ , he scoffed to himself, yet he knew he’d never have to courage to ever say that. As good as he was with words, he found himself having trouble explaining why the roughness of rum wouldn’t do anymore. 

“I broke my wrist when I was little because I thought I could fly,” she said in hushed tones, gaze fixated on the great beyond. “It must be so nice for birds.”

Will lightly chuckled, resting his cheek in one hand with rosé in the other as he imagined a miniature Kym climbing atop a tree, dewy-eyed and green as she dreamt of soaring through the air. He wanted to ask if she still wished she could fly.

* * *

Silver-slated clouds covered the sky, concealing the sapphire that would’ve been there otherwise. Instead of their usual spot within their quaint bar, the two sat outside together on a bench at the side of a somewhat busy road as it poured. The only thing they had to shelter themselves even the barest amount was Kym’s jacket which was draped over both their heads in like a mock raincoat. Will kept shifting closer to Kym, the cold seeping into his clothes as he shivered. As he had expected, she remained unaffected by the frigid weather and, thankfully, his shoulder that was pressed against hers.

Oh, how lovely it was to be sitting beside her.

“Doesn’t the rain bother you?” he managed through chattered teeth. 

“This may be a bit silly, but…” she adjusted the coat atop her to better look at the sky. “Don’t you think that when the sky’s crying, you shouldn’t ignore it?”

Will contemplated her stance briefly and did his best to reconsider his position. In the end, he found that his discomfort far outweighed her philosophy.

“You’re strange,” he started softly, the warmth at his side growing more and more apparent. 

“So are you,” she uttered back, a quiet laugh escaping her usually sarcastic demeanor. 

His eyes caught hers briefly.

“I guess we both are.”

He wanted to tell her that she was the fine line between comfort and chaos, the neverending curiosity of stars. That she was as strange as the short fraction of time between night and day where everything seemed _okay_ for a moment. That her moments of ethereality during twilight is what made him fall in love with rosés. But it began raining harder, and his shoes were then filled with water.

She laid her head on his shoulder.

Oh, how lovely it was to be rained on with her.

* * *

Weeks turned into months as twilight became Will’s favorite hour. Granted, his lack of sleep has raised numerous voices of concern from co-workers and friends, but he simply made excuses for them all. He didn’t mind losing a few hours of sleep when he could be with his favorite things in the world, even if it is just for a single hour.

He relished the conversations he shared with Kym, the ones where they spoke in hushed whispers and quiet laughs till dawn broke against the sky once more. It was amidst their exchanges that Will began to theorize the reason as to why he suddenly preferred rosé when a year ago, he would’ve argued that the taste was far too tame.

The roughness of rum didn’t cut it anymore once he realized that the sweetness of rosé was far too _kind_ to give up.

For once, he didn’t need to fight pain with more pain.

* * *

“Are you free today?” He asked her on a Saturday morning. The owner of the brunch place across the street flipped their door sign from “closed” to “open”.

“I could clear up my schedule,” she replied, sliding a ten-dollar bill beneath her glass as a tip to the bartender. “Why?”

“Let’s go bird-watching.” He got off from his stool and stared at Kym nonchalantly, quietly admiring the streaks of purple that reflected off her toffee eyes that were glazed with shock. It was a new expression on her, yet endearing nonetheless.

“I didn’t think of you as the type that’d enjoy bird-watching,” she nudged, awkwardly trying to joke off his head-on invitation. He only sighed.

“Don’t you want to see them fly?”

Kym paused at that and looked at him, directly this time, dewy-eyed and green. 

Perhaps it was the suddenness of something so _normal_ that had kept her momentarily silent. 

She smiled. It was sincere this time.

“Yeah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kym's in the mafia but I never mentioned that so uh, anyways  
> roughly inspired from Dark Era Dazai he makes me so sad sometimes  
> thank u ara for beta reading this hot shit smooch smooch -3-


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